


Another Body, Another Home

by ZammyShad



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.2 Spoilers, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Oral Sex, Tank Rolequest Spoilers, Vaginal Sex, tender love making baby !!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZammyShad/pseuds/ZammyShad
Summary: “Misses?” a timid voice calls from beyond the door. “I’m sorry to bother you at this late hour, but, ah ... someone is here to see you. Says he’s a friend of yours.”Kal blinks, now standing from the bed. Violet gaze eyes the staff again, even as lips part to speak. “Name?” she asks, fingers itching.“Come now, Sinner,” another answers, sending her heart skyrocketing to her throat. “Who else would it be?”Granson.
Relationships: Granson/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 70





	Another Body, Another Home

The Pendants are quiet and solemn at this time of night, the other residents now scattered throughout the Crystarium, vying for their chance to be a _ Warrior of Light.  _ Where once sat youthful pride at the thought, Kal cringes inwardly at what horrors await not only them, but at what Elidibus has planned. She’s come to know the residents of the Crystarium well, has come to appreciate the small waves and smiles sent her way as she roams, especially with the Exarch by her side. All of them, her friends included, now faced a threat she couldn’t understand, couldn’t pinpoint, and the reminders of Elidibus’ antics only serve to age her worry behind closed doors.

Her head turns to the stars just outside the room, straightened lengths of her hair falling against her cheeks as she searches, aimlessly, for an answer to quell her thoughts. Kal almost expects Ardbert’s voice to rise from such an uncommon quiet, disrupting even the falsified peace in his untimely presence. Yet no sound rises, nor does any form take shape. Instead, his aether pulses inside her chest, mingled and combined with her own as his body, stolen and defiled, walks with abandon throughout his once-home. The thought causes brows to furrow, an anger-like sorrow building at the back of her throat, behind her eyes. It’s  _ not fair _ , is it, to have lost so many and still be on the losing side? The one that doesn’t have the upper hand, one part busy looking for a solution to the fading tether of life her friends, the scions, face while the other stands between an  _ unknowing _ variable no longer contained.

Kal sighs, the seams of her outward facade breaking. As a Warrior of Light, she can’t let them down. She can’t fall apart, can’t sit here and think of everything that could go wrong.  _ For those we have lost _ , she thinks, swallowing down the name at the tip of her tongue. 

_ For those we can yet save. _

A knock at the door, a voice muffled by heavy oaken doors, and suddenly Kal’s sitting upright, the shawl on her shoulders pulling taut at the motion. It’s not as if visitors were uncommon, so to speak, but with how the day has gone, Kal isn’t too keen on walking head-first into danger. Her staff lies in the corner, propped against the wall and she  _ knows _ it wouldn’t be too hard to grab it, her hands ready to wrap around the familiar cane with an easiness and grace that only comes from dedication, magic easy to reach and, and -

“Misses?” a timid voice calls from beyond the door. “I’m sorry to bother you at this late hour, but, ah ... someone is here to see you. Says he’s a friend of yours.”   
  
Kal blinks, now standing from the bed. Violet gaze eyes the staff again, even as lips part to speak. “Name?” she asks, fingers itching. 

“Come now, Sinner,” another answers, sending her heart skyrocketing to her throat. “Who else would it be?”

_ Granson. _

The fight drops from her shoulders in an instant, the curve of her scaled-spine no longer rigid and coiled with tension. There’s something to be said for how calming the other’s presence was, how well-received it was in such a trying time. Kal remembers the last they spoke, an understanding neither of them had expected blossoming into something more, something greater; a sapling given care only to grow into a strong, resilient tree. Where she is a flower surviving against all odds, he is a wildfire of emotion, the sword upon his back just as sharp as the pain he keeps trapped in his chest. She could see it all the moment he spoke, could feel and remember the very sight of the one you love now gone, taken from you far too early despite everything you had done. Best intentions and hopeful prayers only got you so far, in the end.

Kal smiles, a soft and careful thing, one where the corners of her lips barely reach the point of her cheeks. Subdued, tender. Granson was a man of action as well as poetics, and finding solace in him was far easier than she had ever imagined. To have him appear, now, at her doorstep seemed more a _ miracle _ than coincidence.

And who is she to deny herself the company? If anyone, she’s glad it’s him.

“Let him in.” Kal starts, voice retaining the hard-edge the others are so used to, yet airier than before, relaxed. “I’d recognize that voice anywhere.”

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.” Granson replies, striding forwards confidently as soon as the doors are unlocked and opened. He fills the room immediately, taking up the empty space even as the heavy doors shut with a softened click. His eyes skirt the room, acknowledging the bits and pieces here and there before landing on Kal herself, side eyeing her before giving a gentle huff, scoff at his lips as they, too, tick upwards until the tiniest of smiles is reflected back. “After all that time together, too. You wouldn’t do that to me, eh Sinner?”

A scoff of her own, brief and short-lived. “I let you in, didn’t I?”   


_ That  _ grabs his attention, smile splitting into something wider, more childish, a sight yet unseen until now. His lips part to say something more, eyes sparkling in the low light, before he catches himself, turning to Kal with heavy steps and brows that speak of a bigger burden to bear. “Forgive me,” he starts, coming to rest before her mere feet away. “But I’m afraid this isn’t the house-call you may think it is. Do you remember what I said to you last we met?”

Kal nods. “Until our next hunt.”   
  
“Tell me, then,” he begins again, voice low and gravel-like, red eyes blazing and eager. “About this hunt of yours.”

* * *

Granson is an attentive listener, one who doesn’t interrupt and takes everything in stride. He accepts it all, head bowed and eyes averted but still engaged, his thighs touching Kal’s own as they sit against the bed. It’s strange, she notices, how easy it is to speak to him, how words flow endlessly off her tongue without a thought. It’s enough to be terrifying, she thinks, finishing her spiel of  _ Elidibus  _ and  _ Ardbert _ and  _ Hydaelyn _ . It’s enough to be _ electrifying.  _

She hasn’t felt this way in a long, long time. 

“And you want  _ me _ to leave you to it?” Granson asks, turning to face Kal. His brows are pinched in slight, eyes a bit more wide than normal - a sign of concern, youthfulness on display despite the hardships he’s witnessed. “I know you can handle yourself, but the thought of you getting hurt after all we’ve won here...”

A sigh, frustrated as gauntleted hand runs through the faded green-blue of his hair. Kal wants to reach out to him, wants to take that very same hand in her own much, much smaller ones and reassure him she knows what she’s doing, knows what she has to do and will do everything she can to make sure he doesn’t lose someone else, not again. Yet that confidence dies on her lips, throat working against the sudden lump forming there, sticky and stubborn. Where Granson worries for her and the future she’s been able to bring back, she herself worries not about failure, but about damaging the thin tether the two of them share, bound by loss and all the trials it comes with. They exist as reflections of each other; mirrored images of what the unknown can do to you when given the chance.  _ Sinner, _ he calls her, yet around him she’s only ever felt closer to heaven, magicked wings upon her back sprouting fuller and brighter than ever before; a second chance at life for the both of them. Or, more aptly, a second chance at loving someone death can touch.

“Remember, if you ever need me, just say the word and I’ll be there.”

_ Oh. _ This time it’s Kal who hasn’t been listening, too caught up in the whirlwind of her thoughts. She blinks once, twice, before the words finally register, Granson moving to sit astride the bed, frown emphasizes by the scar across his face. His words sound finite; a final goodbye in the face of soon-to-be war. Kal knows it isn’t what he wants, knows deep in her heart he came here for more than information, more than an explanation. He came here to see  _ her, _ to fight by her side or in her name - anything to keep her from being the next body buried beneath the dirty in Khoulsia, not when he had finally lost the angry, fiery edge to his breath and the sorrow that haunted his gaze.

He’s saying goodbye, but he doesn’t want her to do the same. Always self-sacrificing, ready to hit the road and convince himself looking back wasn’t worth the pain in his chest. Or the ache in the hollowed, jagged scar he wears as a mask.

She could make it worth it, Kal thinks, turning to meet him. There doesn’t need to be sacrifice. Not anymore. Not when the skies are black and clear; a reminder of a future yet to be had, of life yet to be lived.

“I need you.” The confession waivers unsure, vibrating through dry throat as body moves closer, hands hesitantly laying themselves against the quilted fabric of his armor, the heat from his chest near burning as thighs straddle his waist. 

Granson’s breath stutters, exhaling nothing more than a flimsy wheeze as Kal situates herself within his lap. It’s confirmation - her words, her touch - that this feeling, whatever it may be, is mutual between them. It’s not uncommon to want for intimacy, yearning for another to hold you close and tell you things will be okay. Of  _ course _ it isn’t. Yet he stares, transfixed on her visage, hands deftly flitting to slot around her hips, grip light and tender.

“Well, Sinner,” a softer smile, red eyes full of awe and amazement as they search Kal’s face. “You have me.”

When their lips meet, Kal thinks  _ this is what it means to love again. _

It’s slow and uneven, Granson’s lips too lax and hers a little too pushy. He stiffens, too, overthinking and obviously out of practice. He says as much when they pull away, ready to try again. He says it again, like a mantra, when the second kiss has their teeth knocking together, Kal’s tail swiping at the air behind her at the sting of twin _ clacks! _

Granson chuckles. “More of a fighter than a lover, I’m afraid.”

“You can be both,” Kal replies, watching as the other melts into it, shoulder dropping and eyes falling to half-lidded. 

“Talking from experience?” he asks, letting his hands grow more confident, trailing upwards to play with the strands of fabric connecting her shawl to her chest. They stay there a while, the heat of his skin suffusing every last inch of her, sending heart trembling inside her chest and mouth suddenly, inexplicably dry. His hands are big, large enough to cup her sides and nearly touch. They’re rough, too: calloused from the greatsword that lies, forgotten, across the room. Kal wonders, briefly, what they would have felt like before all this. Before the loss and pain; before the bitter taste of revenge settled heavy on his tongue; before it was  _ kill  _ or  _ be killed. _

“I think you already know the answer,  _ Sinner _ .” Kal teases, her own touch gentling as it travels upwards. She takes her time here, too, unhurried in her exploration. Her hands wrap around the back of Granson’s neck, fingers scratching at the hair there in a demure form of intimacy, Granson grinning at the touch. His hair is soft, softer than Kal would have thought, the strands silk-like as they slide between her fingers. Maybe he notices her greedy adventure, enacting upon his own by pulling her closer, ready to speak.

“Let’s try that again.” And  _ oh _ , the third one is much better, both of their mouths opening for each other with ease. Their tongues slide together without pause, a slick glide of give and take and hushed hums mixed between. Kal pushes into it, tilting her head to the side insistently even as Granson’s hands move to tenderly wrap around the edge of her horns, righting the angle just enough to control the kiss, laughing into it when Kal huffs in a semblance of annoyance. His laugh is genuine though, light and carefree and infectious as it worms its way into her heart, squeezing it until all the doubt and darkness from before is replaced by  _ him _ ; his sounds, his breath, his taste, his love.

Now, even as they break, Granson’s hands slide around her neck, running alongside the tip of her scaled spine as they cup sharp shoulder blades through the fabric of her shawl, secure and steady. He doesn’t speak, not much for words and preferring to take action, as eyes flash to meet Kal’s own, red clashing with violet in a silent question of c _ an I undress you _ ? Roughened pads of his fingertips skirt down her back, mapping the darkened scales there, leisurely and deft. Kal shivers involuntarily, sensitivity sparking a warm ball to coil at the bottom of her stomach, flush seeping across already pale skin. Without words does she acquiesce, lids falling closed in surrender. She can hear his sudden intake of breath, can feel the way his chest catches the moment his thighs stiffen beneath her, his body interconnected and far too expressive for its own good. Only on his shaky, uneven exhale does he let hands now dance towards Kal’s front, reverent as he gently undoes the straps holding her shawl in place. It’s only a matter of seconds, time in which Kal’s own breathing begins to pick up, chest rising and falling harder, faster, until the fabric of her top is whisked away when fingers flick the metal clasp open at the front, clothing peeled from her skin in such a way she thinks Granson is  _ enjoying _ this.

The feeling of him, of his length, stiff against her is enough to prove it.

His hands fall back to her shoulder blades, now bare. Kal shivers, unable to keep it at bay, as warm hands glide against her cold, sensitive skin. Her lips part to utter a gasp, hands clenching at Granson’s nape as he uses his leverage against her, bringing tender kisses to her neck. He starts with one hand moving to hold her hair away from her, pushing it back and away as wet lips run open-mouthed against the underside of her jaw. Kal tips her head, grasp growing white-knuckled as Granson’s teeth begin to worry at the skin, a curious tongue peeking from between his lips to run across the ridges of her scales there. It’s enough to send her core pulsing, folds growing slick and wet with every pass of his tongue, every feather-light kiss. He can’t press harder, Kal’s horns too much of a dangerous prospect, yet his whisper-hoarse promise of  _ I’ll make it up to you _ sends another spark to add to her growing collection, abdomen clenching hard as pulse spikes.

He takes the chance to slip hands around her breasts, then, palms drastically larger than her chest. Kal’s hips roll down on instinct, the ache in her core blossoming in greedy, hungry degrees as Granson’s touch remains light and careful, exploratory and reverent and worship-like.  _ Gentle _ isn’t something she’s felt in a long, long time, yet as Granson’s hands knead at the muscles of her chest, thumbs swiping across her nipples in repeated, short glides, the kind that sends electricity _ zinging _ through her spine, arching it without her consent and forcing a pitched whine to leave her lips, Kal thinks she’s missed gentle. She’s missed it quite a bit.

Tonight, she’s not the Warrior of Light. Not with how Granson touches her, soft and sweet and tender. No, tonight she’s Kal Bi, surrendering to a feeling she never thought to feel again. 

Granson chooses that moment to move, breath heavy and laden as he spreads her across the dark sheets of the bed. It’s easy enough, holding Kal to himself as he stands, twisting smoothly to the side and only letting go when her shoulders touched, leaning over her to press a chaste, quick kiss to her lips in promise. He’s not going anywhere, not when she had asked him to stay. She knows this, knows more than anything that this man would stay by her side through thick and thin regardless of the hellfire that came with it. Granson cherishes her, and Kal feels the back of her throat ache as eyes finally reopen to watch her now-lover undress.

Buckles and clasps clink together in a metallic melody, the quiet sound of rustling cloth more akin to a whisper as straps are pulled away. It’s only when the guards across his arms and chest are removed that he can shrug from the undershirt, chest now bare just as she is. He doesn’t stop there, however, choosing to strip himself of his lower tabard, the skirt easily removed now that the coat and belts have been tossed astray. Granson, Kal notes, is well-built beneath the draped and layered armor, biceps flexing and thighs coiling as he steps forward towards where she lay. Even his smalls, which frame his hips and waist in a tight embrace, emphasize the curve and play of muscle ... among  _ other _ things, too.

Granson notices her sight, a raised brow given in playful jest. Kal responds with a chuckle, leaning back into the sheets as he climbs between her legs, hands instantly settling at the thin cloth situated at her hips. “Alright, Sinner,” he starts, palms smoothing to the inside of her thighs then back again, toying with the set of scales to the side. “Would you have me in my wicked ways, eh?”

_ Just say the word and I’ll be there. _

_ I need you. _

“You could never be wicked.” Kal’s words affect him immediately, the heat in his eyes now changed to a low-simmer, melting away as hands pull delicately at her smallclothes, the metal clasps holding her stockings no longer taut. Granson plucks at them, breathing growing labored once again at each individual click as they release. When both of the clasps at her hips are released, the grey cloth falls to her sides, lifeless, and Granson doesn’t hesitate to continue with the others at her thighs. Kal tsks softly, raising her hips and pulling the half-skirt from beneath her, dropping it to the floor while Granson busies himself, pulling her black stockings down, down, down,  _ down. _ She’s glad for it, in a way, endeared endlessly by his obvious compulsion to take care of her. But what’s the best, Kal thinks, is the way he reverently kisses the newly revealed skin of her legs, teeth scraping down the line his hands had just followed. What’s best is the way his hot breath fans across her, the last remaining piece of clothing sliding from her hips in one smooth slide, Granson stuttering out a hushed  _ Kal. _

She lies bare before him, naked and wanting, and the open want that passes across his face sends core burning, the wetness between her thighs suddenly overwhelmingly stark.

“I’ve been told otherwise.” He says, finally, before letting his mouth settle over her. The first hot stripe of his tongue against her folds has Kal’s abdomen clenching tight, head tilting back on instinct as he begins to push further inside. Granson has never been shy about his emotions, his actions speaking them far more clearly than words ever could, and the same, Kal realizes, can be said about what he does behind closed doors, a groan now vibrating through the both of them as he greedily, hungrily laps at the slick of her juices gathered around her clit.

Kal  _ jolts _ , thighs squeezing around the other as another gush seizes through her, clit twitching against his tongue. Granson only growls, forcing another gasp from her already heaving lungs as he continues what _ feels like _ his attempt to lick every last drop from her. He’s attentive, holding down Kal’s jerky hips as he tries to roll into the wet heat of his mouth, his lips wrapping around her clit to suck once, backing away and hiding a pleased smirk as he returns to exploring her. Over and over again, switching from flat stripes of his tongue that feel all-consuming, reaching every part of her, and those smaller, pointed lick, tracing unknowing shapes into her heat and toying with the sensitive hood. It’s when he does it a second time, tongue rolling in slow circles against the side of her clit, does Kal stiffen and cry, the ache inside her growing as she spasms, trembling against him.

Her skin is flushed and sweaty, hair splayed around her head in a halo of white and yet Granson sees none of it, choosing to bury his face in her wetness and moan, grip turning bruising as he stays relentless in his giving. Her hands claw at his shaggy hair, twisting against his scalp and tugging hard, finding purchase there as a warm, tingling weightlessness settles at the forefront of her mind.

It’s only when he lifts his head, lips and chin slick with her juices, does she let them drop to the side, clenching and releasing the sheets in time with the quick pulse of her heart.

_ Oh - _

Granson licks his lips, eyes closing on a thoughtful, satisfied hum

_ \- Fuck. _

When he shifts, Kal notices the way his cock strains beneath his smalls, the dark fabric clinging to him without remorse. He sits back on his haunches, chest shining with a thin sheen of sweat as hair falls to his eyes, watching in shameless delight how Kal continues to squirm, aftershocks playing across every inch of her body. It’s only as she lays, recovering in quick breaths, does pull the last bit of cloth from his body, haphazardly letting it fall astride the bed just as Kal had done earlier with her own. That’s when he now slides against her, fully bare, bodies molding together and slotting just right. Granson’s cock lies heavy against her, rubbing in the smallest of movements against the heat of her core. She can feel him, gently pulling at her folds, and the slight push and pull ignites the already-sensitive nerves. Kal’s head tips to the side, lips parted, as another ball of heat pulses against her.

“Please,” she begs, unable to get enough air. “I want you inside me.”

Granson’s breath hitches against her neck before fanning in a surprised wheeze of her name. “Kal,” ( and  _ oh _ , how her name sounds whispered like that, strangled and tight and full of his emotions ) he starts, hands sliding against her shoulders, her arms. “Are you -”

“Yes,” she hisses, feeling his length catch against her, rolling her hips in time with his movements and reveling in the gasp he can’t swallow back. In a rare moment of intimacy, a pale hand reaches upwards to cup his cheek, Granson’s head pulling back, lifting at the touch. Kal smiles, tender, before letting her thumb slide ever-so-gently down the scar, stopping at the corner of his lips.

Granson’s eyes fall closed, body shivering. “Sinner,” he starts, taking a deep breath. “You’re far too good to me.”

Lips meet again, languid in distraction. Kal whines, soft whimpers emphasized each time their mouths slide together; a break in the tidal wave of heat that washes over the both of them. Granson keeps at it, pushing his tongue against her own as hands reach below, one encircling the base of his cock while the other grasps her hip in a possessive yet tender grip. The strong line of his arms strain as he nudges the blunt head of his cock against her entrance, her wetness spreading and mixing with his own. Granson sucks in a sharp breath, head bowing against the warmth and ripping their kiss apart, tearing his attention away from Kal’s kisses to the heat that slowly, carefully, begins to envelop him.

Kal’s thighs ache as she spreads them apart, yearning for him deeper, further inside. His cock twitches against her,  _ inside _ her, steady as he thrusts in and out, shallow as he tests the give of her walls. Kal aches and aches and  _ aches _ , each push barely there yet pressing farther and farther still. The stretch, Kal thinks, is going to burn her alive, the drag of his cock inside her growing steadily smoother as her walls grow slick. The glide finally allows Granson to come to a rest, seated to the hilt and smothered in wet, thick heat. Kal feels the coiled rope of want become thin, threads hanging on with only the thought of  _ I want this to last. _

Kal stares unseeingly at the ceiling of her room, dazed as she squeezes around him, feeling the long length of his cock pulse and twitch. The pressure feels almost unbearable, Kal herself torn between pushing forward against him or reaching down to stroke her throbbing clit. Needy and left bereft of friction, she can’t take much more of this, and Granson needs to know. He needs to know _he can move_ _\- !_

Granson makes a half-aborted move to pull out, gasping out a thick fuck as hips snap forward again, filling the space he just made instantly. The head of his cock pushes up against the little spot that sends her thoughts scattering, nudging nerves that force walls to flutter around him, milking him and asking, begging,  _ keep going. _

“Fuck,” Granson swears, this rough and animalistic sound. The word sounds winded, punched from his chest as hips once again flex, leaving her only to push back in, over and over until her folds feel raw, swollen and wet around him. “You’re incredible,” he babbles now, hips picking up a steady rhythm that just  _ barely _ satisfies the itch under her skin, that  _ so-very _ thin thread breaking at the seams as it struggles to hold on. “Perfect in every way in this Gods-forsaken world.”

Maybe he’s just as desperate, maybe he’s just as taken with the feeling of them joined like this. Whatever the reason, Granson leans forward, caging Kal in with the breadth of his shoulders as hands plant themselves on either side of her, touching his sweat-slicked forehead to hers and ignoring the hint of scales. Kal finds it endearing, gaze now drawn to his own as they breathe into each other’s space, moving together in tandem. Give and take, push and pull, Kal feels the tension begin to tip, Granson’s hips faltering as thrusts begin to stutter. The gentle slide from before gradually falls to the wayside, being replaced by desperate snaps. What was once timid gasps and coyish moans now roars to life with the sound of skin meeting skin, harsh breaths overtaking words as Granson presses Kal harder into the sheets, strength on display in the most vulgar of ways. All Kal can do is reach up, wrapping her arms around his neck and finding purchase there even as nails scratch down the column of his nape, slipping against the flexing architecture of Granson’s back. The sting sends a grateful hiss into the air, Granson himself pushing into her touch with every drag of his cock, the slight pain spurring him forward, again and again.

A hand, sneaky and sly, dances against her thigh, Kal’s eyes flashing wider in response. When had Granson moved? Yet once again he pushes inside her, hips snapping and eliciting a breathy moan in response. “Granson,” she gasps, shaking as he continues, relentless in his pleasure. “Granson, please.”

Two fingers press to her clit, rolling the flesh between them. Kal’s body lights up, nerves singing and finally, finally, pushing her over the edge. Granson doesn’t stop, pressing harder, rubbing faster, rolling his hips to grind into her as deep as he can, even as she comes, walls tight and suffocating. Kal can’t stop shaking, can’t stop the whines that pitch ever higher as Granson refuses to halt, heightening her peak until it’s too much, way too much, and she can’t,  _ she can’t  _ -

Granson stills, brows pinched and mouth lax as he finishes, one last harsh flex of his hips that nearly shoves Kal’s head further up the bed. His voice sounds strangled and tight, airy as he tries valiantly to breathe through it, gravel-like groans torn from the back of his throat. None of it makes sense, no words spoken. Instead, they both tremble together, reveling in each other’s release until the hand on Kal’s clit falls away, Granson’s cock softening inside her fluttering walls and, eventually, slipping from her entirely.

Kal stares, exhaustion crashing into her as Granson does little more than collapse besides her. There’s soreness in her hips, a twinge in her thighs as she flexes, trying in vain to gain feeling in them again. It’s the good sort of pain, the kind that reminds you of a good fight and leaves you wanting for another. A little bit of magic, she knows, and it’ll be gone come morning. Yet as Granson shuffles beside her, tiredly pulling at her until her back touches his chest, a strong arm falling lazily across her side, Kal makes a mental note to do it later. For now, she’ll stay in his arms, letting their mess cool against them both. For now, Granson presses a gentle, closed-mouthed kiss to the back of her neck, smiling soon thereafter and muttering a soft, whispered confession.

“I love you.”

Kal sighs, relaxing into him; acknowledgement, acceptance.

“And I’ll make sure we both see this through to the end. You and me, Sinner, have a lot more life to live.” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> it's meeeeeee back with another work for @lizardtown on twitter!
> 
> this was a pleasure to write! if you'd like to support me and my work, you can do so with my tip-jar that can be found on my twitter below!
> 
> if you wanna see more of my work and xiv, follow my twitter @valistheas.
> 
> requests are going to be put on hold as i transition back to college, so as always comments and kudos are vastly appreciated!
> 
> see you on the flip side, sinner ;))


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